


Punished

by captainellie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Come Inflation, Egg Laying, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, Noncon - Forced To Choose Which Hole Gets Raped, Tentacle Rape, Verbal Abuse, Werewolf Sex, Xeno, belly bulge, come addiction, minotaur sex, rape as punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainellie/pseuds/captainellie
Summary: The minotaur found her first.
Relationships: Male Dungeon Monsters/Servant Girl Thrown Into Dungeon as Punishment (Original F/M)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 194
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Punished

**Author's Note:**

  * For [praxyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/praxyn/gifts).



“It’s a shame,” the guard said as he stripped her, methodical. He didn’t linger even when he bared her breasts and her bottom. “She’s a pretty little thing.”

Two other guards stood between her and the stairs. Between her and escape. The shorter of them laughed, a bellowing noise that came from low in his stomach. “She’ll be prettier still with her stomach full and all her holes open.”

The third guard shoved him, knocking him sideways. “Only if you like ‘em sloppy and used up,” he said.

There was a moment when they were all distracted and the archway was unblocked. If she’d been more quick, more clever, more brave, she could have flung herself between them and ran up the stairs. She was lighter and faster, she could have beaten them in a race.

But they were big and loud, and she was naked. She was afraid. So she ran upstairs. What then? The queen had sent her down here in the first place, and no one dared cross the queen, not even her husband and sons. She’d heard tales that the sons had spent time in the dungeon themselves, and came out quiet and shadowed. She would find no quarter there.

They gave her a mug of liquid that steamed and stank of herbs and magic. She drank it as fast as she could. It burned her tongue and her throat going down, but that pain disappeared almost immediately as it worked its way through her.

The first guard shoved her toward the heavy wooden door that led into the monsters’ domain. Her feet dragged, but he didn’t let up. It took both the other guards to swing it open, and the first pushed her through the doorway.

She stumbled and almost sank to one knee before she caught herself. The doorway was bright with golden light, and it spilled over her, a false promise of warmth and safety.

“Get moving, girl,” the guard told her. “You don’t want to make them come find you.”

The door slammed shut, loud in the stillness, and the sound of the heavy bars brought down across it rang louder still.

Her toes throbbed from the cold stone underfoot. Her nipples hardened and her skin pebbled from the chill in the air. This part of the dungeon was dry and freezing and vaguely lit. Witch lights, must be. She couldn’t see any other way for it.

For too long, she stood in front of the door, shivering and staring, arms crossed over her breasts, legs pressed tight together. She wanted to beat against the door and beg them to let her free. She wanted to curl up where she stood, cover her head, and cry herself sick.

But the guard was right. It was terrible here, in the cold, not quite dark. It would be worse still if she waited for them to come for her.

She curled in on herself, shoulders hunched, but forced herself to take a step. Another step. She placed each foot with care, but there were no sharp stones to hurt her, no rough edges to make her trip. There was nothing to stop her from walking toward her doom.

The dungeon anteroom had only two exits, one the door behind her and one an open archway that led into the maze of stone that made up the bulk of the monsters’ domain. No one but the queen knew exactly what lived there. Most people survived the punishment, but they did not talk about it when they were done, and she could not name a single person who had gone through it twice.

The witch lights continued through the maze, providing just enough light to make the rest of the darkness even more sinister. Anything could be lurking just outside the pale light. Anything could be waiting for her to pass. She breathed too fast, her chest hurt from the pounding of her heart, and her stomach churned.

She walked on through the stone maze. Three turns in and there was no possible way she’d find the way back to the entrance on her own. Four turns and she gave up even trying to track where she was or how long she’d been walking.

That left her only with thoughts of what monsters came for her and which order they’d find her and whether they would tear her open at the end.

The minotaur found her first. She heard him coming long before she saw him, the heavy beat of his hooves against the stone, slow steps that echoed through the maze. She spun in a circle, searching, but no matter how she strained to see to the end of the three paths that speared out from where she stood, nothing moved.

Meaty hands landed on her shoulders, and she squeaked, a pathetic little noise that made the thing holding her bellow a laugh. Instinct kicked in and she jerked away, but he held her easily in place, big, rough fingers digging into her skin.

Hot air snorted down over her head, and he pulled her tight back against him. His skin was hot and hairy, and he was terribly hard. His cock leaked against the small of her back as he rubbed against her.

Hot tears dripped down her chin, and she realised she was crying.

“So soon,” he rumbled and caught them on one broad finger. The obscene slurping that followed made her cry harder.

He lifted her off her feet to turn her around, then pushed her onto her knees. He was a giant from down there, and his cock looked too big to fit anywhere in her body even with the drugs she’d been given.

She didn’t have a choice.

“Open,” he told her. She blinked up at him, vision bleary from the tears and her terror. She knew she should obey him. She knew she had to obey him. This was her punishment, and though she was meant to be retrieved in a day’s time, if they killed her, nothing would be done. They would claim she fought, and that would be enough for the queen.

He didn’t tell her again. Instead, he held her face in those big hands and pushed his thumbs into her mouth so he could pry it open. The power in his grip stopped her from struggling. He could tear off her jaw easier than she could debone a fish.

When her mouth was open, he shoved his cock inside. Her jaw cracked, and she screamed around it, more from fear than pain. He pulled her forward until her nose pressed into his rough fur and his cock thrust into her throat.

He held her still like that while her body twitched and jerked. She was so full she couldn’t take a deep breath even through her nose. Lack of air made the world start to spin, or maybe that was the strong musk of him that filled what little breath she managed.

He pulled out slower than he went in. Her jaw hung open when he was all the way out, just the very end resting on her lower lip, and drool slopped out, coating her chin. Drool and his pre-come, already thick enough to fill her mouth.

It was sour and savoury at the same time, and she managed to swallow even with her mouth gaped open. It went down easy.

He thrust deep into her throat again, then withdrew. Deep, and out. Deep, and out. Each time he held himself longer and longer, dragging out the length of time she went breathless, giving her just a moment to gasp before he was inside out again.

Each time he stopped at her lips, she gulped, desperate for more of that taste. Tears soaked her face, and a terrible mix of tears and drool and pre-come coated her small breasts.

He dragged her into the air again, tall enough and strong enough to hold her up and leave her legs dangling.

His mouth curved into something like a mockery of a smile, and it was terrible, that snout, those burning eyes set farther forward than on a regular bull, those horns curling high and proud.

He shoved her against the wall and held her there with one hand. With the other, he reached between her legs and prodded at her, first her cunt and then her arse. She swallowed a sob when he pinched one thigh hard enough the skin broke.

“Here?” he asked, fingers again at her cunt. Then they moved to her arse. “Here?”

She stared at him, too dazed to understand. She licked her lips, chasing the taste he’d left there, and hated herself for it when she noticed.

He shook her, smacking her head against the stone wall and rattling her bones. “Choose!”

“C-cunt.” She stumbled over the world, then repeated herself when his fingers remained at her arse. “My cunt, fuck my cunt.” She’d been touched in neither place, but he was so huge she couldn’t even imagine how she’d survive taking it up her arse.

With no further warning, he shifted his grip, both hands holding her again, and dragged her down onto his cock.

It was the worst pain she’d ever felt, the burn as he ploughed through her, tearing her open as he went. She was wet, the tea had made sure of that -- and the taste of him that lingered in her mouth -- but she grew wetter still as he forced his way inside, her own blood coating him.

Blood and arousal. Her body reacted to the pain like it was pleasure, and she sobbed all the harder for it.

His heavy balls slapped against her arse when he sheathed himself fully. Her hips hurt from how far he’d spread her legs, the rough stone wall abraded her back, and he filled her so full she felt like he’d split her in half when he breathed.

He withdrew, slow, and thrust back inside harder and faster than ever. It hurt worse then, tearing her further, and she choked on a scream. Hot breath steamed across her face and a thick, blunt tongue swiped from the corner of her mouth to her temple, catching drool and tears alike.

He fucked her and fucked her, and she could do nothing but squirm, pinned as she was against the wall. He chased his own pleasure, he could not care less for her, she was a hole for him to use, and it was terrible, it hurt and she bled and she cried --

\-- and every thrust rubbed across something inside her that made her spark. The pain never let up, but spark brought pleasure, and soon she burned all the way through, overwhelmed by the bad and the good.

“No,” she begged, choking on her own saliva. “No, no, no.” He didn’t listen, but she wasn’t talking to him. Her body didn’t listen either. Her cunt tightened. Something sharp grew there between her legs, something hot, and before she figured out how to stop it, the orgasm tore through her.

She screamed and she sobbed and she came, betrayed by her own body.

The minotaur grunted and licked her face and thrust harder than ever.

Then the world spun as he jerked out of her, shoved her down to her knees, and slammed his cock into her mouth. She choked on it, hands beating ineffectually at his thighs, and he thrust deep just once before he flooded her mouth with his come. The taste stole her away, and her hands came up to grip the base of his cock and hold it there as she swallowed and gagged and drooled it back out. There was blood and her own slickness and him, that musk of his, that flavour. She drank as fast she could and let the rest spill out to drip down her body.

Inside, she screamed at herself to stop, but her body continued to ignore her. The taste was too good, she wanted it, she needed it, and he gave her all she could take and more. Her stomach swelled from it until she was fit to burst and still he came and still she drank.

Finally he swatted her hands away and jerked out of her mouth, painting her face with the last of his come. She swiped her hand across her face, gathering it so she could frantically lick it from her palm, dropped her hand to scoop more off her breasts, chasing the taste of him.

He shoved his hand into her hair and dragged her head back until she had no choice but to stare up at him.

“Whore,” he said. She could understand him, but the sound of him was wrong, impossible to come from that muzzle. It brought her fear back to the forefront, and she tried not to sob even as she licked his come from her fingers. “Look at you, covered in filth.”

She stared at him, no words forming, and he slapped her across the face. He didn’t hit her with even a fraction of his strength, that was clear, it would have broken her neck, but it still snapped her head to the side and left her cheek throbbing.

“Thank me, whore,” he said.

She opened and closed her mouth, choking on all the come she’d swallowed, on her terror and fear and that terrible need that was already growing inside her.

He slapped her again.

This time, she managed a garbled, “Thank you, thank you, thank--”

He dragged her to her feet, cutting her off.

“Run, little whore. Run so I can chase.”

He shoved her forward, and she took off at a stumble, barely more than a walk. The bulge of her stomach threw off her balance, and her legs didn’t want to work. Each time a foot hit the stone floor, pain radiated all the way up her body, worst in her cunt, and she felt a sloppy mix of blood and come drip down her thighs.

She couldn’t hide now even if she tried. The smell of her would be everywhere, and the monsters would come running.

Behind her, she heard a snort and then the heavy thuds of a minotaur charging.

Tears blinded her, pain twisted her body, and, terribly, her cunt throbbed with as much need as pain. She could taste him, still, and she wanted more, and she hated herself for it.

And still she ran.

The werewolf found her second.

She shambled along at a walk now, arm cradling her stomach, bent forward to help support it. It was going down, but only slowly, and she couldn’t find her balance no matter how she moved. She turned a corner and he pounced, taking her to the ground. He wasn’t as big as the minotaur or as heavy, but his fur was shaggy and she felt swallowed by it.

He rolled her underneath him and shoved her into the right position, head down, cheek pressed against the stone floor, and arse up, legs spread. Thick, furry fingers pushed into her cunt with no warning, and he barked a laugh.

“Like a bitch in heat.” He held those fingers in front of her face, showing her the mix of come and blood. “You smell like you need to be fucked.”

Her cheeks burned as he licked his fingers clean, then he moved off her back and she got her first real look at him. The minotaur was half bull and half man, and that was strange and frightening, but the werewolf was worse. He was neither man nor wolf nor half and half. His body was wide and muscled and covered in shaggy gray fur, and his face had a muzzle instead of a nose, eyes that gleamed in the dim light, and sharp teeth. He stood on two legs like a man, but those legs were bent in strange ways that made her vaguely sick if she looked too long.

And his tapered dick was already hard and slick, obscenely pink against his fur.

She closed her eyes when he flung himself down again and shoved his muzzle between her legs. His tongue plunged into her cunt, licking come and blood out of her even as she begged him to stop. It felt so good to be filled again, and this time with something that didn’t stretch her and hurt, and she hated the way it made her shake.

He pushed his tongue forward, lapped across her clit, and she came again, sobbing at the betrayal.

Then he rose up behind her again and smacked her ass. His claws pricked her flesh, not enough to cause real harm, but the pain was sharp and bright and made her burn with need even right on the heels of an orgasm.

He mounted her easily, his chest pressed against her back, the hot, heavy press of his fur surrounding her, and thrust his dick inside with unerring precision. He was thinner than the minotaur, and wetter, and he slipped into her with ease.

He fucked faster too, hips snapping forward, body arched over hers, humping into her. Disgusting squelching noises came from where their bodies met, too wet and too fast, and she bit her own arm so she wouldn’t beg him to stop.

Beg him for more. She wanted him to stop, but her body very much did not.

She choked a little on tears and snot, and he fucked her hard and fast. All too soon, something bigger pressed against her hole, shoving at the edges. His dick was slimmer than the minotaur’s, but his knot bigger still, and she screamed into the floor as he battered her with it, trying to force it inside.

His nails scoured down her sides, he thrust hard, and the knot popped inside. The pain overwhelmed her mind, but her body came. She clamped down on him. He howled and bit her shoulder and flooded her with his come.

Her belly, still swollen, filled further, until her skin was taut and she thought she’d burst like an overripe fruit.

He kept moving through her orgasm and his, grinding his knot inside her. It brought her to the edge again, but this time she teetered there, and he did nothing to bring her over. He panted in her ear, licked sweat from the back of her neck, and waited for his knot to go down.

She cried as silently as possible, but she could feel his laughter.

“Little bitch,” he murmured, sounding sleepy. “I’ll see you bred yet.”

When his knot finally went down enough he could pop it free, come gushed out of her, splattering the ground. He stood, towering over her as he stared down at her. Her shoulder stung where he bit her, and she could feel blood trickling from it.

His smile bared all his teeth and that ropey tongue, and she would have shrank away from him if her body hadn’t given out and taken her fully to the floor. She lay in the spreading puddle of come, unable to do more than look up at him and gasp for air.

“You’re marked mine now,” he told her, pleased with himself. “And look like you’ve got a litter of my pups inside.”

Then he bounded off with great inhuman leaps, leaving her to sob and cower on the cold stone floor.

The vine found her third, or fourth, or fifth. She couldn't tell, not after the werewolf and the haze he'd left her in. There could have been nothing else after him, or a hundred.

She woke to find herself held close in the warm, damp dark. Vines twined around her, trapping her arms against her body, tilting back her head, covering her face, just barely loose enough for her to breathe. No matter how she strained, she could make out no light through the ones wrapped across her eyes.

Cool air washed over her legs as some of the vines dropped away, and she realized she was in far more trouble than if she was bound only for later. She kicked and squirmed, but the vines from her waist up held her tight in place, and others wrapped around her ankles, pulling her legs out until her hips ached from the spread.

Then, when she couldn’t move an inch, one thrust inside. It was thick and covered with spines and ridges. She wasn’t ready, had dried out and tightened up while she was unconscious, and it hurt. Oh, gods, did it hurt. It rubbed her raw, pressed hard against her inner walls. The spines caught and tugged, each a terrible pinprick from the inside out. 

It wasn’t quite wide enough around to stretch her the way the other two had, but the vine was long and agile. It twined inside her, rolling its way deeper. It hit her cervix and without any building pleasure, all that did was hurt.

And then the vine pushed through, farther and deeper than anything else had been, than anything possibly could go. She could practically feel it rearranging her insides, stretching her, filling her. It went on and on, tearing through her, those spines working against her sensitive flesh, more and more pushing into her womb.

Her stomach bulged, and she could feel it roiling inside her.

Then, something even bigger slid down the vine and pushed against her hole. It was too big, and she screamed in pain, but the vines over her mouth muffled it. Even if she’d been loud enough, no one who could possibly hear her would save her. 

The vine inside started a pulsing roll through her, pressing and twisting, and despite herself, the pain tearing through her body, the disgust at what was happening inside, the terror eating away at her until she was going numb, despite those things, pleasure flashed hot and bright.

It undulated inside her, catching spines against that perfect spot, and she came, gushing around the vine. That was enough for the bigger thing to pop inside her, to continue its passage toward her womb. An egg, maybe, or a seed pod, or -- she didn’t care.

She couldn’t care.

She didn’t want to care.

The last orgasm was her undoing. No one was coming back for her. She hadn’t been tossed to the monsters for a temporary punishment, or if she had, they must have decided to keep her. It didn’t matter. She was stuck there, in the labyrinth at the heart of the cold dungeon. She was marked and filled and bred, and if none of it took, they would try over and over again.

Even if it took, they would come for her again. The ones she’d seen, and the ones she hadn’t.

Hot tears leaked from eyes squeezed closed, and her breath came ragged and wet. 

Another of those things pressed its way inside, too big, too much, and her womb felt heavy from the weight of them as one and another and another filled her. She came again, but it was distant now, her body too numb for much to reach her.

That wouldn’t last, she knew, but she sank into the soft darkness, the only escape she had, temporary as it might be.

Her body would recover, and they’d force themselves on her, into her, force her body to react no matter how she fought it. She hated them, and herself, and the queen for putting her here. Hated the way her body hungered and thirst, hated the way she could still taste the minotaur in the back of her throat, hated how she wanted more.

Another thick thing fell into her womb, and she let herself go.


End file.
